


Leather Gloves and Eyeliner

by eggnogged



Category: Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-15
Updated: 2012-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-31 06:03:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggnogged/pseuds/eggnogged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Howard and Vince getting off with each other dressed as goths in Nanageddon. That's it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leather Gloves and Eyeliner

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on booshbattle.

They both watch as Naboo and Bollo follow the two goth girls down the stairs, then listen to the thud of their footsteps as the four of them make their way to the door and out onto the street. Then they both turn to look at each other.  
  
“Well,” Howard says.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Howard slumps down onto the sofa and Vince goes to put the kettle on.  
  
“That was a monumental waste of time,” Howard says when Vince returns.   
  
“I wouldn’t say that, Howard,” he replies, handing Howard a cup of tea before sitting down next to him.  
  
“How can it not be? I mean, look at me!” he says, gesturing to his too-tight trousers, his too-short t-shirt, his too-white face. “I look like a complete berk.”  
  
“You don’t.”  
  
“Vince…”  
  
“No, it’s true! Well, you might’ve picked clothes that actually _fit_ , but—”  
  
“Are you saying I’m _fat_?”  
  
“No! Just, you know, you’re… a bigger man.”  
  
“That’s the same as saying I’m fat!”  
  
“Easy! I just mean you ‘n I are built differently, alright? I’m all slender and willowy and you’re… more like an oak.”  
  
Howard feels a burst of pride at those words. Oaks are alright. Oaks are solid, strong, dependable. Manly.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Anyway, what I’m saying is that even though your clothes are a bit too small for you, you look alright as a goth.”  
  
“Oh, shut up,” Howard says, looking down into his cup of tea. He’s not used to receiving compliments, least of all from _Vince_ , and can’t help feeling a bit embarrassed.  
  
“No, it’s true!” Vince says, warming to the subject. He leans down to put his cup of tea on the floor, then shifts to sit sideways on the sofa, facing Howard. “I’m liking the leather gloves and the wristbands, well butch.” He reaches out to trail a finger over the metal studs over Howard’s wrist, gliding over the skin on the back of Howard’s hand to touch the soft leather encasing his fingers. Howard shivers reflexively, the fingers of his other hand tightening around his cup.  
  
“You should wear leather more often, it’s kind of sexy,” Vince continues with a smile, making the cup in Howard’s hand wobble dangerously.   
  
Howard can feel himself blushing and desperately hopes that his goth makeup is enough to hide the telling flush creeping up on his cheeks. He takes a gulp of tea, and when Vince moves his hand down to hook his fingers around the chain hanging from his belt hoops, Howard nearly chokes on his mouthful.  
  
“And this, this is nice,” Vince says, giving the chain a little tug.  
  
“You’re taking the piss, aren’t you?” Howard says, chancing a glance at Vince out of the corner of his eye.  
  
“I’m not!” Vince says, taking the cup of tea out of Howard’s hand and putting it down next to his own, making sure he’s got Howard’s undivided attention. “You should know I would _never_ joke about fashion.”  
  
“Oh. Well. You think I should dress like this all the time?” Howard says, unable to keep an edge of desperation from his voice. If that’s what it takes for Vince to notice him…  
  
“Well, not really,” Vince concedes, shifting to his knees and inching a bit closer to Howard, making the cushion dip where his knees are touching the outside of Howard’s thigh, “You wouldn’t be you if you turned into a proper full-time goth. But, you know, a few accessories now and then…” He tugs on the chain again, a bit harder than last time, “…and a bit of eye makeup…” he continues, reaching up as if to touch Howard’s face.  
  
Howard’s hand flies up to catch Vince’s wrist before it makes contact.  
  
“Don’t touch me,” he says, automatically. But Vince isn’t looking at his face anymore, he’s looking at Howard’s gloved hand, closed around his wrist.  
  
Howard tightens his grip, and the breathy noise that escapes Vince’s painted lips is almost a whimper. An unexpected flare of heat surges through Howard at the sound, and he finds himself unable to release Vince’s wrist even though his brain is screaming at him to stop.  
  
“You… you like this?” Howard asks in a choked voice, taking hold of Vince’s other wrist to hold both of his hands captive.  
  
Vince doesn’t reply, but he wets his red lips with his tongue, still staring at Howard’s gloved hands like he’s hypnotised. After a few seconds that seem to stretch on forever, his eyes flick up to Howard’s face, and there’s a hint of a challenging smile on his lips as he tries to pull his hands free from Howard’s grasp. Howard doesn’t let go.  
  
Howard watches, fascinated and a bit confused, as Vince’s pupils dilate and his breathing deepens.  
  
“Is it... the gloves?” Howard says, his voice not quite as steady as he’d like it to be, “Or _this_?” he continues, tightening his grip a bit. Not enough to hurt, but enough to cut off circulation if he keeps it up for much longer.  
  
“Both,” Vince says, and before Howard has time to process what’s happening, he’s climbing in Howard’s lap and kissing him.  
  
Howard’s mouth opens in surprise, and Vince quickly takes the opportunity to slide his tongue between his parted lips. Howard is too shocked to do anything but let it happen.  
  
It takes a few moments before Vince notices that he’s not getting much in the way of reciprocation and he pulls back a bit, frowning down at Howard.  
  
“This will be more fun if you kiss me back, you know.”  
  
“Vince...” Howard begins with some trepidation, but Vince chooses that moment to push his groin against Howard’s, and the rest of the sentence dies on his lips.  
  
“You think too much, Howard,” Vince says with a smirk and another roll of his hips, “Your outfit is kind of turning me on, ain’t that enough?”  
  
It isn’t, not really, but Howard can’t pretend he doesn’t want it, not with the way he’s arching up against the delicious pressure against his erection. It seems useless to argue, so he just tangles his hand in Vince’s backcombed hair to bring their mouths together again. If the way Vince is grinding down against Howard wasn’t enough on its own, the fact that he doesn’t complain that Howard is messing up his hair would be enough to tell Howard that he’s _really_ up for it.   
  
Vince’s kisses are messy but enthusiastic and he tastes like lipstick, and Howard feels a bit dizzy from the sensory overload, unable to keep track Vince’s hands. They seem to be everywhere at once, stroking Howard’s cheeks, tugging at his hair, smoothing down his shoulders, creeping under the edge of his t-shirt.   
  
“Um, Vince?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Are we going to... um. You know.”  
  
“What, fuck? God, I hope so! I think you owe me, Howard, for ruining my gothic threeway.”  
  
A small part of Howard wants to argue, wants to point out that he wasn’t the one who summoned up that demon, that Vince did a good job ruining his gothic threeway all on his own. But a bigger part of him doesn’t want this to stop, so he just says, “Oh. Okay.”  
  
Vince grins at him, kisses him once more, then suddenly backs away and stands up, hands flying to the fastenings of his leather skirt.  
  
“Er, Vince, can you…?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Leave it… on?”  
  
Vince gives him a surprised grin but he complies and begins to inch his leggings down instead.  
  
“You like leather too, don’t you, you filthy bastard?” Vince says, then smirks at Howard’s embarrassed nod. Howard doesn’t have to ask him to keep his chunky platform boots – after tossing his leggings and pants aside, he immediately puts them back on.  
  
Howard doesn’t move an inch while this is going on, staring a bit dazedly while his brain struggles to catch up with the events. When Vince finishes clasping the last buckle on his boots and looks down at Howard to find him staring like a rabbit in the headlights, he rolls his eyes, and straddles Howard’s lap again, “I almost forgot that underneath those clothes, you’re still Howard.”   
  
Howard doesn’t know whether or not he’s supposed to be offended by that, but Vince is smiling as he’s opening Howard’s torn trousers and pushing them past his knees, and when his fingers close around Howard’s straining cock, he immediately forgets about it. He’s not really sure what he should be doing but his body seems to have some ideas of its own because he finds himself thrusting up into Vince’s hand and grabbing him by the hips.  
  
“Yeah, just like that,” Vince mutters breathlessly, holding his leather skirt up, releasing Howard’s cock and wriggling closer. With a roll of his hips, he presses his erection against Howard’s, smiling wickedly at the strangled sound Howard makes at the contact. He looks a complete mess, his lipstick smeared all over his mouth, and his hair flattened on one side where Howard was gripping it, and it should be funny but it’s not, it’s kind of sexy actually. _I did this_ , Howard thinks with a small trickle of self-satisfaction. He surges up to catch his lips again, groaning into the kiss when Vince starts to rock his hips. The leather of Vince’s boots feels odd but exciting against the outside of his naked thighs, and he doesn’t even care how the buckles are rubbing his skin raw with each thrust of Vince’s hips.  
  
Howard’s thinking that it’s pretty stellar, this slow friction, but Vince seems to have other ideas because before long he’s grabbing Howard’s hands from where they are resting on his hips. He directs one to rest on his arse under the skirt, and the other between their bodies, closing Howard’s fingers around both of their erections at once.   
  
“Go on, Howard, you do it,” Vince is saying against his lips, “Put your big Northern hands to good use.”  
  
Howard is no stranger to the feeling of his own hand on his cock, but this feels different and infinitely better, the moist heat of Vince’s cock sliding against his own, encircled by the soft leather of his fingerless glove.   
  
With Vince’s hand still covering his own, Howard tightens his grip just so and begins to move his wrist, smoothing his thumb over the heads and twisting his hand on the down stroke. He might not be the most experienced of lovers, but if there’s one thing Howard knows how to do, it’s how to jerk off, yes sir.   
  
“Fuck, Howard—” Vince groans, leaning his damp forehead against Howard’s, “Don’t stop.”  
  
They are both staring down between their bodies, seemingly hypnotised by the movements of their hands. It seems so obscene, uncivilized and unrefined, almost disgusting even, but Howard can’t look away, can already feel his impending orgasm building, like a tightly coiled spring in his groin.  
  
“Vince, I’m—I can’t...” Howard stutters apologetically, but Vince just smiles at him through his panting breaths, sliding his hand further down to gently cup Howard’s balls. Swearing under his breath, Howard thrusts up roughly as he comes, shoulders hunched, his face pressed in the crook of Vince’s neck.  
  
It takes him a few moments before he comes back to his senses enough to realise that Vince is still squirming impatiently in his lap, thrusting up in Howard’s loose grip.  
  
“Oi,” he says when Howard finally raises his head back up, “I’m glad that was good for you, but don’t forget about me.”  
  
“Sorry,” Howard mumbles, but he feels too dazed to react, or even to be properly embarrassed. Vince rolls his eyes and sighs, then knocks Howard’s limp hand off of his cock to replace it with his own, and proceeds to jerk himself off with sure, quick strokes.   
  
“Just touch me, you nonce,” Vince says, nipping at Howard’s lower lip.  
  
Howard obeys, sliding his hands under the hem of Vince’s black mesh top, stroking the smooth skin of his back up and down in a firm caress, and, emboldened by Vince’s moaned encouragements, lifts the hem of Vince’s leather skirt to cup his buttocks with both hands. He flattens his gloved palms over Vince’s arse, then squeezes, rubbing warm circles in the soft flesh as Vince tosses his head back, hips stuttering out of rhythm.  
  
“Yeah, Howard, you... you keep doing that—”   
  
Howard lowers his head and bites one of Vince’s nipples through his top and that’s enough to do it. With a breathy mewling sound, Vince arches his body, coming in warm spurts over his own hand and Howard’s exposed belly, and it seems to last a very long time. He finally flops forward, boneless and heavy against Howard’s chest.  
  
They’re both silent for a few minutes while Vince catches his breath, but just when Howard starts feel a small surge of panic at just how much touching is going on, Vince turns his head to press a kiss to his cheek.  
  
“Howard?”   
  
“Mmm?”  
  
“I’ve got... leather handcuffs. Under my bed.”  
  
“...oh?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“...When did Naboo say they’d be back?”  
  
“Not for ages.”  
  
“Good.”


End file.
